


Infractions

by lilyseyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bonding, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:46:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyseyes/pseuds/lilyseyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's final detention for Professor Snape Sixth Year takes a strange twist - Written for the Snape_Potter Daft Day Smut Swap</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infractions

**Author's Note:**

> Betad by rakina and irisgirl2000

* * *

Harry swallowed the sigh creeping up his throat and resisted glancing at his watch – again – knowing it would only confirm that time had slowed to a crawl. No doubt on the command of the imperious git across the room. The monotony of tediously copying anonymous names and infractions on the aging cards left his mind plenty of time to think of different ways of getting revenge, which kept his mind off what was happening elsewhere. The Quidditch match was undoubtedly over by now and Harry was torn between wanting Snape to keep him in detention until the wee hours of the morning and the burning desire to face whatever the outcome was. 

A throat being cleared had Harry dragging his attention back to the task in front of him. Other than the all too frequent detention slips with one or more of the Marauders' names on them, this detention was mild in comparison to some that that he had served for Snape. He was bright enough to recognize the pettiness of the assignment and Snape’s hope to further humiliate him by showing him that his father and Sirius had been reprimanded so often. In his heart, Harry had already acknowledged that James Potter had been a bit of a bastard in his youth and his godfather even worse. The various charges painted the clear picture of behavior that Harry recognized from being the target of it at the hands of Dudley and his gang. 

Tugging the next card out of the narrow box, Harry felt the familiar jolt in his stomach as at the sight of his godfather’s name:

 _Sirius Black. Apprehended attempting to hex Severus Snape in the Charms classroom. Detention._

Harry allowed this sigh to escape. There had been a number of similar cards with incidents involving Siruis and Snape, all of which had been instigated by his godfather. Laying the card on the desk in front of him, Harry paused as he noticed another card stuck to the back of the first one. With a frown, He pulled the two gingerly apart and his breath caught painfully in his chest as he read it.

 _Lily Evans and Severus Snape. Apprehended out after curfew. Double Detention._

His mum and Snape? Harry glanced across the room to where the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher sat marking essays. The thin, angular face looked younger without it’s usually sneer as Snape concentrated on the parchment. Hastily looking back down at the two cards in his hands, Harry slowly reread them and noted that they had happened on the same day. Was it possible his mum had been helping Snape? Was that why neither of his father’s friends ever talked about Lily Evans beyond the fact that Harry had inherited her eyes, because she had been a friend to Severus Snape? Harry knew that he wouldn’t have hesitated to sneak out after curfew if Hermione or Ron had been hexed and needed him.

His mind churning at this concept, Harry carefully copied the information on both cards, filing Sirius’ back into the box even as his eyes were glued to the other. The memory he’d viewed in Snape’s Pensieve the year before suddenly replayed in his mind and the anger his mum showed at Snape’s slur turned to hurt indignation. After all, Harry thought grimly, he’d learned today that Severus Snape had been a target of his father since their first year; by fifth year it would have been common place. With the tip of his finger, Harry traced his mother’s name, sadness stealing over him.

“Fondling the parchment, Potter? Feeling sorry for your sainted father?” a silky voice sneered as slender fingers snatched the card from his hand.

“You knew my mum.” Harry stated, his eyes following the card as Snape froze when he caught sight of the names. “You were friends, weren’t you?”

Snape took a step back, clutching the detention card to his chest, his expression nonplussed. A heartbeat later, the familiar sneer was back, dropping over the older man’s face like the mask Harry now knew it to be. Reckless as ever, Harry pushed against the chink he’d found in the man’s amour. 

“You can tell me about her, Professor.” Harry insisted eagerly.

“You will focus what little attention you have on your …”

“No, please!” Harry jumped up, grasping a handful of the black robes. “Please, sir, just…just tell me about her! No one ever talks about her!”

“Unhand me, Potter,” Snape thundered at him trying to rip his sleeve away, but Harry wasn’t going about to let go.

“Why? Why won’t you tell me?” Harry demanded, his anger rising as Snape resisted, a mask of cold fury contorting the man’s face. _As it had that day in Myrtle’s bathroom_. “And how do you know about the Half-Blood Prince?”

Whipping his sleeve out of Harry grasp, Snape had him slammed against the wall of his office before Harry could react and pressed against him. Pinning Harry’s wrists over his head, Snape snarled, spittle spraying his face.

“You _do_ have my book, you filthy liar! I AM the Half-Blood Prince!”

Harry froze, stunned by the words screamed in his face. Snape pressed closer as he continued to berate Harry, but the words were lost to him as the sensation his body was feeling overwhelmed him. The hard press of the lean body into his, the warmth of Snape’s breath against his skin, and the stirring of his own body as it hardened. Harry tried to breathe, the sharp, herbal scent filling his nostrils as the heat of the man seeped into him. This was his Half-blood Prince, masterful and strong. A whimper of need clawed its way up his throat, escaping out his mouth. 

Snape froze and Harry tried to pull away, only to be pressed more firmly against the wall. An answering hardness pressed into his abdomen and Harry thought he’d melt into the floor, whether from arousal or mortification he wasn’t sure. His body betrayed him as his hips moved tentatively against the thigh that suddenly presented itself. If possible, Snape shifted closer and Harry looked up to see the ugly sneer just as the older man thrust against him. Once, twice, and Harry was lost as he spilled into his pants.

Severus Snape held him for a moment as Harry sagged, before stepping back to hold him up against the wall with one hand. The cruel parody of a smile twisted his lips and for a sorrowful moment, Harry thought he wasn’t the Potter Snape was seeing. His face flamed as Snape leaned close again, but Harry couldn't bring himself to look up. 

“All too soon, Potter, you will know the true face of sacrifice. You will know first hand of the desperate actions taken and what one is capable of when one is forced! The sacrifice Lily made to keep her beloved son safe, the depths I have sunk to in upholding my end of the vow she and I made; it will all become apparent in a short time! But at least I will die happy, knowing I told have you this, Potter: You are mine, bound by body and soul for life by your own mother, _mine_!”

It was the edge of defeat in the passionate voice that cut through the haze of anger and waves of humiliated pleasure as Snape spun him away from the wall and pushed him towards the office door.

“Fortunately for both of us, life is a luxury neither of us is likely to enjoy for much longer. Go play the role set for you, Harry Potter, and leave me to my misery.”

Harry was outside the door as it slammed in his face, body still throbbing with pleasure even as his mind reeled. Nothing in the last ten minutes made sense to him, except the knowledge that Severus Snape had been his mother’s friend, his beloved Half-Blood Prince, and a total bastard.

* * *

Harry watched in horror from beneath his invisibility cloak as Voldemort set Nagini on Snape with a lazy flick of his wand. Hermione clamped down hard on the scream Harry imagined was searing her throat. The blood was everywhere, and Snape’s face was as pale as death when Voldemort swept from the room. A heartbeat, then two before Harry was diving from under the cloak to kneel at Snape’s side.

“Kreacher!” he hissed through clenched teeth as he tried to staunch the flow of blood with Snape’s own cloak. 

Snape clenched the front of his robes, pulling Harry close to his face as the silvery shimmers appeared. Taking the conjured vial from Hermione, Harry collected them carefully just as the ancient house-elf appeared beside him with a _crack_ , his eyes widening at the sight of Snape. 

“Master Harry?” 

“He must have a vial of some kind of anti-venom potion on him somewhere, Kreacher, help me find it!” Harry said in a clipped voice as desperation tore at his stomach. “Hermione, try healing the wounds in his neck…”

“Harry!” Hermione grabbed at his arm. “We’ll take care of Snape, but your time is almost up! If those memories were that important, you need to go look at them now!”

Looking back down into the dark eyes, for once free of anger and hatred, Harry brushed his fingertips across Snape’s cheek and saw something spark in the inky depths. Harry felt as if he was saying goodbye. In the next minute, Harry was on his feet, grabbing his cloak as he pressed the vial of precious memories to his chest, and fled.

He knew he had a job to do.

* * *

A bitter wind blew off the moor and whipped Harry’s winter cloak as he stood in front of the cottage door. Well-built and set back towards of the edge of a stand of trees, the cottage seemed peaceful and ordinary. The thought that Severus Snape would choose to live in an ordinary place brought a half-smile to Harry’s face. Any smoke that rose from the chimney was whisked away on the wind, and a single light that burned in a back window was the only sign of habitation.

Harry drew a deep breath. There was no reason he should be nervous, really. He’d done what they wanted, viewed the memories Snape had given him and had found the strength he needed to face his own death. With Voldemort gone, Harry had immersed himself in his studies, spending the summer and fall at Hogwarts in order to take the special NEWTs the Ministry had arranged for the seventh-years. Those he had sat yesterday, closing the door on that portion of his life.

Staring at the stained wood of the door, Harry could not bring himself to knock. He had not seen Snape since that day in the Shrieking Shack when he was lying in a pool of his own blood. Harry knew the former headmaster had healed well, thanks to Kreacher’s continued presence after Madam Pomfrey had released him. Dumbledore’s will, unsealed after Voldemort’s death, as well as Harry’s testimony had exonerated Snape and the Wizengamot had given him a blanket pardon and an Order of Merlin for his actions during the war. Named sole heir by his mentor, Snape had left Hogwarts, and Harry, without a backwards glance. 

Tonight was Christmas Eve, and Harry stood on Severus Snape’s doorstep, no longer anyone’s student, but a young man at a crossroads. He had continued to communicate with Snape after he’d left, writing the acerbic man every week, keeping them light and newsy. Snape had never responded, but the owls had not been refused either. Even Kreacher, who split his time between Hogwarts and Snape’s Keep, had not been forthcoming with news and Harry was loathe to force the house-elf to satisfy his own curiosity.

The door flew open, startling Harry enough to jump back in alarm. Severus Snape stood on the threshold, haloed by the soft light from behind him. For just a moment, Harry imagined that he saw the flash of a smile on that dour face.

“Potter! What are you doing loitering on my doorstep in the middle of the night?”

The tone was as biting as the wind and Harry’s heart plummeted. Had he deluded himself that there would be any kind of welcome from this man? 

“I wrote you that I was coming, Professor.” Harry fell back on the honorific as he took a tentative step forward. 

“Why?” came a snarled reply.

Harry looked up at the glowering man, not sure what Snape wanted him to say, what he wanted to hear. The churning in the pit of his stomach told Harry he’d made a terrible mistake. The bond Snape had spoken of, the one that had been so important to his mother seemed to have been forgotten, or more likely, disregarded in disgust by the man in front of him. 

A slender hand reached out and grabbed his arm. “I do not plan to be overcome by hypothermia waiting for you to articulate an answer!”

With that Harry was pulled inside the shadowed entry and stood for a moment as the warmth of the interior wrapped around him. Snape stormed down a small hallway and Harry followed him hesitantly. Why he was still here and even trying was beyond him. The man had made it very clear that he wanted nothing to do with Harry. The sitting room was lit by floating tapers and a warm fire burned in the fireplace, but Harry didn’t notice, his thoughts on delivering what he had brought and leaving as quickly as he could. Stuffing a hand in his cloak, he pulled out his precious cargo.

“I just wanted to give you these back,” Harry said as he carefully set on a table the fluted crystal container he had bought to contain the memories Snape had given him in the Shrieking Shack. 

Snape watched him, eyes hooded and face blank, as Harry laid beside the vial the copy of the _Advance(d) Potion-Making_ textbook which had belonged to the Half-Blood Prince. His fingers lingered for a moment before Harry reached back into his pocket and pulled the last object out. Wrapped in silver paper with a green ribbon, the set of rare potions ingredients Harry had hunted down seemed trivial and childish. He shook his head slightly. It didn’t matter anymore, now, did it? Snape didn’t want him, any more than the Dursleys had all those years ago. Dumbledore had wanted a weapon to fight Voldemort, Ginny had loved his fame, and so many others now wanted his time and money. Why did Harry ever believe that he might have found someone to belong with, someone with a similar childhood who would understand his dark moods and bouts of temper?

“I’m sorry I disturbed you, sir, I…” Harry glanced again at the neutral mask. “I’ll just see myself out. I’m sorry I bothered you, Professor.”

Defeated, his heart heavy in his chest, Harry turned towards the door and took a step. Fingers curled around his bicep, halting his retreat, but Harry refused to turn around, unwilling to allow the bastard a glimpse at the depth of his despair. Snape stepped up behind him, close enough for Harry to smell the man’s unique scent. Harry imagined he could feel the heat radiating off the lean body.

“Why, Harry? Why are you here?” 

Snape’s voice was low but devoid of the usual coldness and the breath that brushed Harry’s ear was warm. Part of him wanted to say something nasty and biting, to hurt Snape as much as he had been hurt, to close the final door between them, but the memories of the doe in the Forest of Dean came back to him. Harry took a deep breath.

“I am here because I felt something very intense between us that day I served my last detention in your office,” he said quietly. “As you said then, we had our roles to play then, but now we are free and I…I wanted you. I thought we might…”

“What?”

Harry huffed, but couldn’t bring himself to move away from the intoxicating warm, the comforting smell that seemed to envelope him. “I thought we might get to know each other…”

A sigh brushed his ear and Harry was turned slowly as Snape’s slender arms came around him. The look on the older man’s face could only be described as relieved and the dark eyes seemed to bore into his.

“I promised myself that you would come to me without regret or coercion or I would release you from confines of a bond you had no choice in.”

Harry tilted his face upwards. “I am here willingly, if you want me…”

His words were lost as Snape – no, Severus – took his lips in a searing kiss. There was nothing tentative about the tongue that swept his lips and dove inward to plunder his mouth. Harry could do little but slide his arms around Severus’ neck and moan as he tried to return the kiss. His cock throbbed as a hand slid down to cup his arse and the other hand cupped the back of his head. Pulling away to take a breath, Harry loved the flush that colored Severus’ sallow cheeks.

“Wow,” Harry breathed out, a smile splitting his face.

The intense dark eyes seemed to search his face and Harry hoped Severus found what he was looking for. A thumb stroked one of his cheekbones, and Harry was almost overwhelmed by the feelings coursing through him.

“I can assure you, Mr. Potter, I am…” Severus began, but Harry cut him off.

“I know, you’re not a nice man. It’s all right, really.”

An elegant eyebrow arched and a smirk curved the thin lips. “Actually, _I_ was going to say that I am an exceptional lover and you will never want for anything but more.”

Harry’s face heated and he buried it in the man’s warm throat. His tongue flicked out of its own accord to taste the scarred flesh, but he didn’t have time to be embarrassed as Severus groaned softly. Dragging his head up, Severus kissed him hungrily, and the next thing Harry knew, they were both naked and sinking into the warm, soft expanse of a large bed. Damn the man and his non-verbal spells!

Severus pinned his hands above his head and leaned down to nip along his jaw, and Harry shuddered at the onslaught of sensation. The marvelous hands trailed down his arms as Severus used his wicked mouth to torture Harry. Who knew that his nipples would be so sensitive or that a hot tongue dipping into his navel could make him sob with arousal? And when that wet, wicked mouth descended on his throbbing cock, Harry world exploded in a haze of white as his climax slammed into him.

“Ah, youth,” a voice purred in his ear. “Guilty of an infraction even in this arena, are we?”

Harry cracked open an eye, his body still quivering with delightful spasms, and he was surprised to see what appeared to be a genuine smile on the face looming over him. Sliding his arms down, he ran his hands along the lean sides, slipping one hand between their bodies to stroke the heated length of the cock pressing into his belly. Severus felt longer than Harry and a bit thicker, with velvety skin, and Harry wondered how he would taste. The tips of his fingers smeared pre-come across the broad head and toyed with Severus’ foreskin until Harry was pushed back on the bed. With a groan, Severus kissed him hard, sharing the taste of his own release with Harry.

“Impertinent brat,” Severus muttered, settling between Harry’s legs.

The next thing Harry knew, his hips were propped up on a thick pillow and his knees pushed up against his chest, exposing his most private area to Severus’ hungry eyes. It was all Harry could do not to reach down to try and cover himself. He grabbed the back of his thighs, peering down at the dark head. A rush of cleansing magic inside him caused him to jump just as that wicked tongue he was fast becoming intimately familiar with swiped across his puckered entrance. Biting his lip, Harry tried to stifle the needy sounds he was making as more unfamiliar sensations shot through him. A slick finger slid slowly into him, helped by that scorching hot tongue and then another finger. The strange feeling of fullness was replaced by a jolt of electricity when a finger brushed against something deep inside him and he could feel Severus’ evil chuckle. 

“Explanations later, Harry now simply take the pleasure I have dreamed of giving you.” 

Severus was above him again, braced on one arm as something bigger than fingers pressed into him. There was a brief flash of pain and a burning sensation that made his breath hitch in his chest for a moment. Then, Harry could feel the long length of Severus’ prick sliding slowly inside him. Harry let go of his legs and wrapped them around the slender waist as his hands found Severus’ thick hair. Severus allowed him a deep, hungry kiss before pulling back and gripping his hips, pounding into Harry. Every other stroke brushed against the thing inside him, and Harry fisted the bedding as he clenched his muscles. 

“Ahhh…faster! Please…” Harry panted plaintively.

“Say it!” Severus demanded. “Say my name!”

Harry blinked, tilting his head back. “S...Severuss…” 

Severus made an inarticulate sound as he snapped his hips faster, leaning down to fist Harry’s cock. That touch sent Harry over the edge and he arched up, feeling a burst of warmth deep inside him as Severus stiffened. Awareness faded as Harry rode his wave of pleasure, wrapped securely in slender arms. 

“I suppose this means you will be expected some sort of costly gift in the morning.”

Harry didn’t even bother to open his eyes, simply snuggling deeper into Severus’ warmth. “I think the gift I’ve already found is dear enough. Happy Christmas, Severus.”

“Happy Christmas, Harry.”

* * *


End file.
